


Bedtime

by Marie_Tomas



Series: Bedtime [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Arguing, Brotherly Love, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean in Denial, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Spooning, Subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marie_Tomas/pseuds/Marie_Tomas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night of drinking, Sam and Dean accidentally cuddle. Sam secretly likes it, but Dean seems to hate it. Then it happens again, and again, and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime

The first time the cuddling happened, Sam and Dean were drunk.

They finished a successful hunt, and the two of them checked into the only motel they could find, before they headed to the nearest bar, both of them eager to celebrate and release some of the adrenaline through drinking and staying up late, and, in Dean's case, through flirting with hot women and getting laid.

Unfortunately, the only bar in the small town was full of older guys, with no women in sight as Sam looked around at all the men, hunched over their tables and bar stools in their tight-knit groups, drinking and playing poker and ignoring the Winchesters.

It was lucky, really, that they still felt like they were riding high after their hunt, because it meant that the whole thing seemed kind of hilarious, especially when they drank beer after beer, and Dean got louder and louder, eventually staggering over to a couple of the men and challenging them to a game of poker, still winning the game even though he could barely stand up, and Sam just laughed at his brother like he was the funniest person ever, noting that the room looked a little blurry as he moved around in his seat to look at Dean.

Then they left the bar and stumbled back to their motel room, leaning on each other for support, still laughing at the recent memory of one of the poker-playing men yelling at Dean.

It turned out to be kind of difficult to remove their clothing so that they could get into their beds, and Dean ended up kicking off his boots so hard that they hit the nearest wall, and his leather jacket and jeans ended up getting thrown somewhere near his bed, and Sam fell over three times in an attempt to remove his own jeans before crawling into his bed, with Dean laughing at him the whole time.

They were so drunk that Sam barely noticed when Dean fell down onto Sam's queen-sized bed instead of getting into his own, and he was too tired to tell Dean to go away when they both started to drift off to sleep on top of the covers of Sam's bed, with hardly any space between the two of them.

The next morning, as a few rays of sunlight crept in through a gap in the drapes, Sam was vaguely aware of the fact that even though his mouth was dry and his head was pounding, he felt really calm and comfortable, as though he'd had a good night's sleep for the first time in months, maybe even years, and also that there was something that definitely didn't feel like a blanket wrapped around his legs.

He was just about to let himself fall back asleep again for another couple hours, but then a gasp and a loud, indignant cry of, "Dude!" from somewhere above his head startled him back into consciousness.

He looked up, as quickly as he could with his sore head, only to see Dean staring back at him in wide-eyed shock.

In a matter of seconds, Sam realized that Dean's face was so close because Sam had managed to move right over to his brother's side of the bed at some point in the night, moving so close that they were actually  _cuddling_ , even though he was almost certain that Dean didn't cuddle anyone anymore, even though they hadn't done anything like this since they were kids; but Sam didn't know what else he could call it, because his head was on Dean's shoulder, he had an arm wrapped around his brother's waist and a hand holding on tight to the fabric of Dean's t-shirt, like he was afraid that Dean would leave, and, instead of the blanket, which they had apparently managed to throw on top of themselves during the night while asleep, Sam's legs were wrapped around  _Dean's legs_.

At the exact same time, the two of them leaped apart and jumped out of bed.

"Dude!" Sam managed to splutter, so influenced by Dean's negative reactions to any displays of affection (or 'touchy-feely crap', as Dean called it) that he couldn't help but mimic his brother's response.

The two of them stared at each other from opposite sides of the bed, Dean looking flushed, and Sam trying not to blush. It was as though they were two lovers caught in some kind of illicit act, rather than two brothers who had simply ended up sharing a bed one night in a motel room and accidentally cuddling.

Sam knew that most people wouldn't really see it as a big deal, that it probably  _wouldn't_ have been a big deal if it had happened with anyone else, or more specifically, anyone else who Sam would normally have shared his bed with in the recent past, like girlfriends or close friends. But Dean always had to make things like this into a  _huge_ deal, especially now that they were adults, no doubt shaped by their father's lack of patience for showing affection, or for doing  _anything_  that wasn't considered 'manly'. Hell, Dean would only agree to a  _hug_  if one of them had come back from the dead.

"Dude, what the-" Dean started to accuse Sam, his eyes flickering nervously from side to side, like a wild animal that might bolt at any moment, before Sam quickly interrupted his older brother with a, "Hey! It's not  _my_  fault!"

Because it  _wasn't_ Sam's fault; Sam was pretty sure of it. Okay, he might have moved closer to Dean in the night without realizing, but Dean had been the one to fall asleep in Sam's bed  _in the first place_ , and they had _both_ been drunk, anyway.

He was almost tempted to shout, "You started it!" at his brother, like he always used to do when they were kids, but he doubted it would help the situation very much, or make either of them look any less like immature kids.

"Dean?" he ended up asking instead, suddenly remembering just how much his head hurt. "Can we  _please_  not get into a fight about this? It's early, and I feel like crap…"

"Fine, yeah, whatever," Dean sighed, his voice still sounding too high-pitched to be considered calm. "Let's just…uh...forget about it, okay?"

"Sure," Sam responded, trying to make his nod of agreement look as casual as possible.

With that, Dean walked awkwardly across the room in the direction of the bathroom, avoiding eye contact with Sam.

Sam couldn't help sighing as Dean slammed the bathroom door shut. He wasn't disappointed that it happened, he was disappointed that even though he had reacted in exactly the same way as Dean, secretly, he had sort of  _enjoyed_  it; he kind of wanted to do it again.

Judging by Dean's reaction, however, that wasn't going to happen. Ever again.

* * *

The second time, Dean was cold. Real cold.

One of their more difficult hunts ended up with Dean being thrown into a lake, and he emerged shaking and shivering, insisting to Sam that he was fine, even though his lips kind of looked like they were turning blue.

Although Sam kept the heating on full blast while he drove the Impala, searching for the nearest motel to check into, Dean was still shaking with cold when they pulled into a motel parking lot.

When they finally went into their motel room, Sam tried everything he could think of to get Dean warm, from asking for extra blankets, to letting Dean use all of the hot water in the shower, and even insisting that Dean wore Sam's largest hoodie over his layers of pajamas.

Yet none of it seemed to work, because Sam woke from his light sleep at some time around midnight only to notice that Dean still seemed to be shaking under his blankets and taking short, sharp breaths.

Without thinking about it, Sam got out of his own bed and quietly got into Dean's.

Acting on instinct and his limited knowledge of sharing body heat, he reached out for Dean so that he could pull him closer to his chest, eventually lining their bodies up so that they were lying back-to-chest, wrapping an arm firmly around Dean's waist and pulling the blankets around the two of them.

He fully expected Dean to protest or push him away, but Sam decided that Dean must have needed the extra warmth more than Sam had first thought, because his brother stayed quiet, only letting out a soft sigh, before he fell asleep minutes later.

Sam remained awake for at least an hour after Dean fell asleep, too worried about Dean's well-being to relax. It was only when Dean's breathing evened out and he felt his brother getting warm again that Sam finally allowed himself to start falling asleep, too.

He didn't even think about getting back into his own bed.

He was surprised when he woke up the next morning to find that they were still in the same position, with only a few minor changes, the main ones being that Sam had also wrapped one of his legs around Dean as well as his arm, and he was sort of nuzzling into the back of Dean's neck, enjoying the feeling of Dean's soft hair brushing against his face.

Now that the worry about Dean being cold was over, Sam was also fully aware of how comfortable it felt to be lying in bed like this with Dean so close to him, holding his older brother in his arms.

This position really seemed to work for them, especially as Sam was taller than Dean; they seemed to fit so perfectly together, and Sam started to think about how nice it might be to do this more often, to be able to do something that would offer a form of comfort to Dean, especially on the nights when Dean was feeling cold, or sick.

Dean always did everything for Sam, he always put him first, and as much as Sam appreciated it, he always wished that he could do something in return; he wished that Dean would just let his guard down, for once, so that Sam could play big brother every once in a while, so that they could take care of _each other_.

Sam doubted that Dean would agree with any of his ideas though, and he knew that their sleeping position could no longer even be counted as sharing body heat, because it definitely looked a lot more like they were spooning, and Sam was pretty certain that Dean would  _never_ willingly agree to be the little spoon with anyone.

That was the reason why, when he felt Dean shift slightly and raise his head a little like he was starting to wake up, Sam quickly closed his eyes, loosened his grip on Dean's waist and pretended to be asleep, in the hope of avoiding any arguments or awkwardness like the first time they accidentally cuddled, and also as a way of letting Dean make the decision to either get out of the bed-seemingly without Sam's knowledge, as far as Dean would know- with minimum embarrassment, or to simply go back to sleep.

Sam was almost concerned by how much he was wishing that Dean would just go back to sleep and let them both have a couple more hours like this, now that they almost had the excuse, this time, that the cuddling was for health reasons, rather than as a result of 'chick flick like' motivations, and also because it was so unlikely that Sam would ever get to do the whole spooning thing with Dean again, and Sam just wanted to make the most of it while he could.

However, unsurprisingly, Sam felt Dean's whole body tense, then he sighed- a sigh that sounded nothing like his soft sigh from a few hours ago-before he wriggled out of Sam's grip and got out of the bed.

Sam kept his eyes closed and tried not to sigh in disappointment when he heard Dean get into Sam's vacated bed on the other side of the room.

* * *

The third time, the motel room only had one king-sized bed.

Sam knew for sure that there was only a king-sized bed in the only remaining motel room, because the desk clerk mentioned this seemingly unimportant fact  _repeatedly_  while Dean argued with him.

It was only after the angry desk clerk repeated, for the fifth time, that the next nearest motel was over a hundred miles away, and he mixed in a few threats to throw the two of them out, that Dean finally agreed to take the room.

Then there were even more disagreements once they got into the room, where Dean insisted that he would be fine sleeping on the floor, or in the Impala, but Sam flat-out refused, still too concerned about Dean after the recent thrown-in-a-lake-by-an-angry-demon-incident, because since then, Dean seemed to catch colds and fevers all the time, and Sam wasn't going to take any chances and let his brother spend the night on a cold floor or in a cold car.

He even offered to sleep on the floor himself, in the hope that his offer would persuade Dean to get into the warm bed, but Dean wouldn't even hear of it, and Sam knew that Dean's older brother instincts just wouldn't allow him to sleep in a bed while his little brother slept on a cold floor.

Which was why, after almost an hour of arguing, the two of them both ended up sharing the king-sized bed, lying at opposite ends, like they were trying to get as far away from one another as they could, both of them staying awake for what felt like hours, staring up at the ceiling, while Sam could almost feel an awkward undercurrent of tension pass between them.

It wasn't like Sam expected any cuddling to happen, not after Dean's not-so-happy reactions to the last two incidents, added to the fact that they'd been arguing so much lately, but it didn't stop Sam from placing a pillow between him and Dean the moment Dean went to sleep, as an attempt to block his body from moving closer to Dean in the night. He also gripped the bed sheet tightly in his right hand, as yet another method of remaining on his side of the bed.

Sam gradually fell asleep to the repeated chant of,  _Don't cuddle Dean, don't cuddle Dean_ in his own head.

It was therefore really surprising for Sam to wake up in the middle of the night, only to smell the unmistakably familiar scent of his big brother, right up close.

Sam panicked and tried to sit up, worrying that his body had managed to break the rules and cuddle Dean in the night; but he was prevented from moving by a weight across his side. The weight wasn't uncomfortable, but it was significant enough to prevent him from moving around too much.

Slowly, cautiously, Sam looked down. The first thing he saw was his brother's hair, and then his freckles, and eventually, his sleep-fogged mind worked out that this time,  _Dean_  had moved to  _Sam's_  side of the bed; Dean had put his head on Sam's shoulder, Dean had an arm around Sam's waist, Dean was snoring softly, nuzzling into Sam's neck, and the pillow between the two of them had apparently disappeared from the bed.

Instantly, Sam felt a rush of affection, taking in the look of innocence, the flicker of peacefulness, on Dean's face. And he felt so content, so  _happy_ that he'd got a few hours of undisturbed sleep, happy that he felt like he was taking care of Dean again, happy that he was participating in something that might be making Dean feel more relaxed as well.

He also felt a faint flicker of hope; hope that maybe Dean had decided that he liked the cuddling after all. Maybe he had  _intentionally_  moved closer to Sam. Maybe all the awkwardness about cuddling was coming to an end.

He couldn't bring himself to move Dean away, or wake Dean up, so he simply pulled Dean in closer and went back to sleep, keeping his fingers crossed that things wouldn't be weird in the morning, that Dean would still be in the bed with him.

He simply sighed in defeat the next morning when he woke up to find Dean sleeping on the floor.

* * *

The fourth time, the two of them were watching a movie together.

Sam thought that it was kind of nice, really, to be sitting next to his brother on a motel room sofa and just relaxing for the evening, especially after weeks of long and tiring hunts, and everything seeming really tense and awkward between the two of them, and also the fact that Sam felt like he hadn't slept properly in a long time.

He wasn't even expecting the cuddling to happen again, because Dean now made a point of only ever checking into motels if the desk clerk could  _guarantee_  that there would be two beds in the room, or if not, he would ask for two rooms. One time, Dean had even driven around for what felt like hours, looking for another motel after it turned out that there were only rooms with king-sized beds available at one motel, with Sam sulking in the passenger seat the whole time.

Besides, as the cuddling had previously only happened while they slept in motel beds, Sam wasn't even thinking about the possibility of it happening on a sofa.

So he didn't think too much about it when he started to drift off to sleep in the middle of the movie, leaning on the arm of the sofa and stretching his legs out on the floor.

It was only when he started to wake up again that he was vaguely aware of two things: the first was that he was really comfortable, the second was that something about his sleeping position felt…different.

He felt warm, even though he was almost certain that there were no blankets on the sofa, and there was something that definitely didn't feel like a pillow under his head, and he could hear a soft, steady rhythm in his ear, like he was listening to someone else's heartbeat, and he was almost sure that he could feel a hand running slowly, hesitantly through his hair.

Then, he woke up fully, and his awareness was right back in the now-dark room, and it only took seconds for him to work out what had happened, helped along in his realization by his brother's exasperated sigh.

He must have moved out of his seated position at some point during his nap, because he was now lying down on the sofa, or more specifically, he was lying on top of  _Dean_ , with his head on Dean's chest, and his legs between Dean's.

It had been one of Sam's favourite sleeping positions as a kid, and now he was apparently trying to recreate it, even though he was probably too tall for the sofa anyway, and too heavy for Dean, and Dean was looking as awkward and as embarrassed as Sam felt, like he just wanted Sam to move away from him, and definitely like he didn't want to talk about any of it with Sam.

It was like Sam couldn't help himself anymore; like his body just automatically gravitated towards Dean the second his mind relaxed and he wasn't thinking so hard about everything. It was as though his body had been reminded of how much Sam used to love cuddling with his big brother as a kid, how much Sam had missed it as he got older, and now his subconscious was trying to force him back into it.

Unlike Dean, Sam didn't really give in to the usual vices much; he could control his junk food cravings, his alcohol intake, his sexual impulses-when it came to turning down opportunities for one night stands in favour of a relationship, anyway. However, the cuddling was fast becoming Sam's addiction, which had to be one of the most embarrassing realizations in Sam's life. Ever.

To save them both the embarrassment of Dean having to tell Sam to move away, Sam got up without a word and headed to the bathroom, planning on taking a long shower so that he wouldn't have to look at Dean for a while.

"Sam…"

He heard Dean's voice calling out to him, quietly, in barely more than a whisper.

Sam stopped and turned his head to look at Dean for a few moments, who was still lying on the sofa like he was unable to move; but Sam could barely stand the expression of pity aimed at him, so he didn't give Dean the opportunity to say whatever it was that he was about to say. Instead, he settled for slamming the bathroom door shut, and using up all of the hot water.

* * *

Things were definitely tense between them.

They went for days without any meaningful communication, apart from shrugs or grunts or nods of the head, and everything felt really uncomfortable and awkward.

To make things worse, Sam was getting mad, really mad. His anger seemed to grow and increase the longer the weird stand-off between him and Dean went on, and it definitely wasn't helped by the fact that Sam could no longer get a good night's sleep anywhere; instead, he spent the nights tossing and turning in every uncomfortable motel room bed, his head full of memories of his childhood, when he had crawled into Dean's bed every time he had a nightmare, with Dean pulling back the covers without hesitation every single time and pulling Sam in close.

Dean had never pushed Sam away or got annoyed by the cuddling back them, if his soft smile every time Sam got into his bed was anything to go by, and as far as Sam could remember, Dean had slept just as well as him, as he always went right back to sleep as soon as Sam was comfortable in his brother's bed.

Sometimes, Dean had just known by instinct that Sam was having a bad day, or that the other kids at school had been mean to him, and his big brother would simply mutter, kindly but firmly, "Come on, Sammy, bedtime," before he got Sam ready for bed and then climbed in with him, holding him close and practically rocking him to sleep, offering comfort and protection.

Sam couldn't help wondering when things had changed; if there had been an exact moment when Dean decided that he no longer wanted Sam sleeping that close to him, a moment when he started to get embarrassed and ashamed of any form of physical affection between him and his brother, a moment when he decided that he hated cuddling, a moment when he started to push Sam away.

When the accidental cuddling first started, Sam had just wanted to figure out a way to make sure that the cuddling didn't happen again, to find a way to get to sleep at night without having to depend on the physical contact with Dean. But now, as he thought about the past, and how much things had changed now that they were adults, he just felt sad, and angry, that Dean seemed to hate it so much, that he seemed to hate having Sam so close to him.

* * *

The days went on and on, and the tense silence continued, and Sam's anger built up steadily, like it was preparing for some sort of explosive release.

It was easier, in a way, when Dean was mad instead of Sam, because in those scenarios, Sam knew that he could always get Dean to calm down, eventually; he could offer words of reassurance, or a voice of reason, or calmly get Dean to finally admit that something was wrong.

Yet when Sam was angry, Dean just seemed to shut down, stand back and wait right until the last minute, when Sam would inevitably snap and start yelling about why he was mad in the first place.

This time, Sam could only watch and get madder and madder while Dean made a conscious effort not to get drunk, while Dean wrapped up in extra layers, keeping himself warm, while Dean refused to take any motel rooms with only one bed, while Dean sat on his bed when they watched TV, leaving Sam alone on the sofa.

* * *

Gradually, things started to improve a little between the two of them. They went on more hunts, they talked about the towns that they needed to drive to, they talked about Sam's research and their witness interviews.

After they completed yet another hunt, Dean suggested that they eat at a nearby diner, and Sam wondered if the food was going to be some sort of peace offering.

While they looked for an available table, Sam thought that Dean looked almost like his old self again, because he swaggered confidently around the room, back in his jeans and leather jacket instead of his many layers of clothes, attracting the attention of most of the women sitting at the tables. He even winked flirtatiously at one of the pretty waitresses, who blushed and grinned and quickly found a free table for the two of them, brushing her hand against Dean's arm as she pointed out the specials on the menu.

The only thing that was different about Dean was that there were dark circles under his eyes, almost as though he hadn't been sleeping well.

The waitress returned with their drinks, smiling at Dean again, and Sam already had a feeling that his brother would be going home with this waitress at some point in the evening. Especially as Dean hadn't hooked up with anyone for weeks, as far as Sam knew.

Sam had never really thought much about Dean's hook ups before, he just considered it a fact of life that Dean would always end up with the prettiest woman in the room wherever they went after their hunts, but now, for some strange reason, he was wondering if Dean would stay the whole night with her, if they would sleep close together, if Dean would enjoy it, cuddling with her while he slept, after they woke up…

"Dammit, Dean, why have we gotta do this every single time?! Every time we do… do  _something_ that  _you_  don't think is manly enough?!"

The words were out of Sam's mouth before he could stop himself, weeks of tension and sleepless nights crashing together into one explosion.

An uncomfortable silence quickly descended on the diner, and all of the customers around them stopped what they were doing and stared at Sam and Dean in shock.

It was nothing, however, to the look of horror on Dean's face. His eyes were wide with panic, and his face was starting to go red.

"Not here, Sam," his older brother whispered frantically, already looking mortified, but not exactly looking surprised by Sam's sudden outburst, apparently working out exactly what Sam was referring to without Sam having to spell it out directly.

But Sam was already too far into it now to be able to stop. "Why not here?" he snapped. "It's not like you'll talk to me back at the motel, not really. Things have been weird between us for months! Ever since-"

"Sam!" Dean snapped at him warningly.

Sam almost felt sorry for him, because Sam's public meltdown definitely had to be embarrassing for Dean, and he knew that he'd only make things worse if he mentioned the word 'cuddling' in a busy diner, when it already probably looked, to the unknowing customers, like they were having some kind of lovers' spat, rather than the Winchester version of a brotherly argument. But he was too angry about Dean's distance and coldness to fully take pity on him.

"Why can't we just have this, why can't we just enjoy something for us, without all of this stupid tension? Would it be  _so_  bad, to just do something calm and relaxing that we like-"

"That  _you_  like, Sam," Dean corrected him firmly, and Sam felt his heart break a little, because yeah, it  _was_  just something that he liked, because Dean always responded like he hated it, because Dean had never said that he enjoyed it, and maybe that was part of Sam's problem; and maybe he was kind of being selfish, expecting Dean to just go along with something that he didn't want to do just because Sam did, falling back into his childhood behaviour and expecting Dean to also return to their childhood dynamic.

"Right, yeah," Sam muttered, brought back to the harsh reality of the situation and stunned into a weird sense of calmness by Dean's words, trying to get his voice to return to normal, while Dean shifted uncomfortably, looking suspiciously like he had something else to say, but he wouldn't allow himself to say it, in public.

Sam got up from his seat, now feeling kind of embarrassed that everyone was watching them. "I'm not really hungry anymore, Dean. I'm going back to the motel; I'll see you later, or tomorrow, whatever."

Dean just stayed silent, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

Sam walked away from the table. He knew that he was sulking, but he couldn't help it. He left the diner and started to head back towards the motel, looking back in time to see his older brother leaving with the waitress.

* * *

That night, Sam couldn't sleep. He had tried, he really had, and he was so exhausted, but he couldn't do anything except move around and roll over and throw a pillow on the floor in frustration.

After his argument with Dean, he had half-considered finding a pretty waitress of his own to take back to the motel room, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Anyway, he had decided that it might sound kind of weird, if he tried to explain that he wanted to take her to bed in the hope that she might help him to  _sleep_ better, rather than help him to get laid.

Besides, after his few one night stands since he first returned to hunting with Dean, Sam was already done with them. He didn't want a random stranger in his bed, he wanted someone he knew and cared about, someone he loved, someone who would hold him and protect him when he had nightmares, someone who he could comfort in return. He wanted to listen to the steady rhythm of a heartbeat lulling him to sle-

"Dammit!" Sam groaned, as he covered his eyes with his hands, his voice thick with realization.

Eventually, he closed his eyes, and he was just sort of drifting off to sleep when suddenly, he was startled awake by the sound of the door crashing open.

"Couldn't fucking sleep, Sam! Haven't been able to get to sleep anywhere else since…"

"Huh?" Sam asked, feeling drowsy and confused as he tried to focus his eyes in the direction of the loud voice, and he noticed the unmistakable silhouette of his brother, standing in the doorway.

Apparently, Dean hadn't been prepared for Sam being half-asleep, because his body language changed; he folded his arms protectively, he ducked his head and he looked kind of embarrassed.

"Couldn't sleep," Dean muttered, his voice now a lot quieter as he closed the door softly. "I tried, and just…uh…couldn't. Not without, uh, you know, yeah…"

They continued to stare at each other from across the motel room, and Sam wondered if Dean felt as confused by what was going on as he did.

Finally, Dean broke the silence. "You…uh…you got any room in there?" He gestured vaguely in the direction of Sam's bed, still looking at the floor.

And Sam got it. He finally got it.

Dean  _liked_  it. He liked cuddling with Sam. He had liked it all along. Maybe he liked it even more than Sam did, judging by the current guilty expression on his face.

But Dean being Dean, he had to resist it and deny it and push his feelings down  _because_  he liked it, the way he did with everything he liked, everything he felt he didn't deserve, everything that might have attracted their dad's disapproval, everything that could make Dean look weak, vulnerable, not as strong a hunter as he always had been, everything that might be abruptly taken away without warning, 'everything' that might make him break down all of his walls, all of his barriers, only to leave for Stanford and vow never to return in an outburst of anger, leaving Dean broken.

Sam got it. He finally got it.

He wanted to cry, or laugh, or jump up and down on the bed, or run to Dean and hug him, promise that he would never leave again, that he would sleep by Dean's side every night, if that's what he wanted, just like when they were kids; but he knew that he couldn't do any of that, not when Dean was already looking kind of terrified, his eyes flickering in every direction as though he might still decide to run away at any moment. Sam knew that if he tried to turn this into some sort of chick flick moment, Dean would only get embarrassed and push him away again.

Instead, Sam closed his eyes, laid back down, whispered, "Sure," and patted his arm gently, casually, on the bed, discreetly inviting Dean to get in.

He sensed more than heard Dean kicking off his boots, removing his jeans and jacket, taking slow steps towards the bed. Then, the room went silent and Sam half-opened his eyes to see Dean standing by the bed, looking all hesitant, like he wasn't fully sure if he could take the last step.

"Come on, De," Sam muttered, kindly but firmly, the way Dean used to say it when they were kids. " _Bedtime_."

With that, Dean pulled the covers back and slowly got into the bed, taking his time moving towards Sam.

It was only when Dean was right up close that Sam reached out so that he could pull Dean in, and thankfully, Dean just went along with it, leaning his head on Sam's shoulder, and even reaching for Sam's hand the moment Sam closed his eyes so that their fingers could intertwine.

"Bedtime," Dean repeated, placing a soft kiss on Sam's neck, before they both fell asleep.


End file.
